Bastion of Europe
by Numbuh six-sixtysix
Summary: There are few fortresses in Europe as heavily defended by man or God as the Castellum Deificus. But what happens when the the dead rise up to feast upon the flesh of the living? Surely there is some defense against an unending horde of zombies. CANCELLED
1. Chapter 1

Stood, as I am, at the tallest tower of my Keep, I can see every inch of this ancient, sacred Stronghold. Immediately surrounding my Keep, is the Courtyard. Within it are the houses of my servants, and the quarters for my elite knights, archers, and monks who guard its walls. Dotted at regular intervals, small lookout towers, suitable only for eight archers, protect my inner sanctum. And, to my west, a small gatehouse, little more than a portcullis built into the wall. It provides the only means of access to my Courtyard.

Outside the Courtyard is the Castle. Situated on a tall, lone mountain, this fortress has but one entrance, a path, to the north, with rolling logs situated at the top of it, and a small trail, all under the watchful eyes of the crossbowmen who stand atop the wall. As if that wasn't enough, there are larger towers spaced along this wall. They are the largest towers humankind can build, but still, the square ones can only allow eight archers at the top. Not including the ballista, and the priest, of course. At the four corners of my Castle, a giant round tower sits. Taller than even my large square towers, and with room atop for thirty archers and more, and room to spare for a ballista and priest. Along all the walls in my Stronghold, lit braziers allows me to know exactly where my walls are, and, with those near enough, to see what goes on beneath them. In my Castle, for example, the lives of my noblemen and high peasants, such as my Tax Collector, my Kitchens, my Armourer and Training Sergeants. All go about their lives, seemingly oblivious of the squads of swordsmen with Knight Commanders, and the entire division of Warrior Monks, who constantly patrol and drill in these grounds.

To the north of my Castle, down the steep mountain path, lies my Castellum. It is here that the vast majority of my peasants live and work. Some in the Church, others in the Inn, but most in the many different types of industry within these walls. An industry to suit every need of those unfortunate people. Granted, those within my Stronghold think themselves lucky, with Double food rations, Double beer rations, regular tournaments and festivals.... Even when I do need to levy crippling taxes upon them, they hardly seem to mind. And, to protect them, walls lined with archers, with towers that have more archers and a ballista each on top. A gatehouse provides access from the north, east and west walls. Each gatehouse, Grand in size and in power, has a full complement of archers, crossbowmen, an honour guard of eight swordsmen, and one knight commander, assigned Gatekeeper. Not to mention the priests. I have explained the reason for all these men of the cloth, haven't I? No? Well, as I said, this is sacred ground. My forebears were assigned by the Church to protect it. Supposedly, somewhere within some of the many great forests, lie a few ruined monasteries. I have been tasked to find them and restore them, as apparently they contain artefacts of great religious value. And so, the priests come to 'heal my troops fractured souls' and the warrior monks defend the lands of God. I don't need to tell you who is more welcome. Anyway, where was I? Ahhh, yes. The Castellum. Well, outside its thick walls is a very large moat. Very difficult to fill in under fire, so I'm told.

To the East and West of the Castellum, and to the South of the Castle, lie different Work yards. At the base of Castle Mountain are the Natural Work yards. No, the workers aren't naked. They mine natural resources. Iron, from the ore, is smelted into ingots and sent to the Castellum for manufacture into weapons and armour. Stone is quarried and sent to the Castellum for building repairs and trading. And tar, from the swamps, is sent to the Castellum for refinement into oil. For boiling purposes. To the east, I only have a Medium food camp. To the south and west, they are large. The food camps produce, obviously food. But food for the peasantry, not me and my noblemen. It produces such lowly foods as apples, meat from birds lured by the hunters, cheese and cows. The sheep there are also used to produce wool, for sending to the Castellum for the weavers. And there are also wheat farms and windmills, to send flour to the Castellum for bakers to make bread. Of course, there are numerous hops farms, so the commoners can have their brew they like so much at the Inn. Ale, I believe they call it. Never in my life have I tasted such a, well, common drink. It lacks all the refinement and taste of the wine I was brought up on. Probably as well, or the commoners might take to stealing off of my vines. That brings me to the reason why, in the east, there is only a medium food camp. Because, in the east, I have my Small Cuisine Camp. In it, we have numerous vegetable gardens, pig farms, and of course, grapes on the vine. Not to mention the Eel Farms, that sometimes also attracts geese. Such high quality food cannot be given to the serfs. And I must continue in the manner to which I have become accustomed, so, to produce food for my nightly banquets, we must keep the high cuisine camp functioning. I do tell my kitchen staff that, should we need more room in the store, we are to take the oldest food and give it to the soldiers, but the priests claim it all for themselves. Like they never took a vow of poverty. Damned leeches.

Still, my camps. I do not see the need to defend them well, as, if we get besieged in the Gardens (that's what the commoners call the grounds around the Castellum, by the way) Then all my fortifications have a good months store of food, and the Castellum and the inner workings of it have a good years worth, at all times. So, the camps have gong pits to take care of the excessive animal waste, falconers to keep the rat problem down (and, apparently, supplement the peasants' diet.) and wells and water butts in case of fire. Oh, and at the entrance, they have a guard post, to make sure nobody is stealing things off of me. Around all of that, they have a simple wooden wall. Not much, but it provides the archers and crossbowmen with a height advantage over their attackers on the ground. And, because even peasants armed with pitchforks can bring down a wooden palisade, there is a moat running around the outside of the wall. It won't stop an opposing army, but a peasant revolt won't get through it.

Apart from my Work camps, the Gardens extend in all their natural glory to the base of the CliffWall. This almost square formation of unusually sheer and tall cliffs is what led this place to being declared holy ground in the first place, as it was clear to the Church that God wanted us to build a fortress within it. Upon the cliffs, we have first a line of square towers, spaced regularly, but interspersed between every one is a giant beacon, symbol to all that we are here, and we own this land. Atop each tower are eight archers, a priest, and a ballista. With the added height of the cliffs, they can fire for many miles, even though they are not as tall as Castle Mountain. Running just in front of this line of towers and beacons is another wooden wall. Of course it runs just in front. Silly me. The towers are also the only way up onto the wall. On the wall stands ready a single archer in front of each tower. But, should something appear on the horizon, a quick shout will bring the rest of his comrades spilling forth from the tower, and quicker than an eye can blink, the wall will be bristling with notched arrows. This is enough to make entire armies think twice before even marching past us, let alone against us. But we still have not seen the full defences of my Stronghold. In front of the palisade is one long row of fire ballistae. Whilst they are good at spearing entire squadrons of men in a single salvo, they are not put there for that. They are there to set alight siege engines long before they come within range of my precious Stronghold. Trebuchets, catapults, battering rams, all are a raging inferno the instant they come within the huge range of these deadly, oversized crossbows.

And now, we come to the final layer of the defensive onion that is my Stronghold. The Gapforts. There is one situated in each of the four entrances, north, south, east and west. And they are all designed with the sole intention of being a complete pain for enemies to pass through. From the outside of the Stronghold, first you must get past a wide moat. Then, filling the gap in the Cliffwall perfectly, is one large Gatehouse. Thirty four crossbowmen ranged along the front. Forty archers behind them. And, to get through the gatehouse itself, you must first kill the Knight Gatekeeper and his honour guard of swordsmen. And then you get to the fun part. You see, now you come into range of the forts sixty four archers, eight ballistae, and walls lined with armour piercing crossbowmen. To get across to the rear gatehouse opposite, you must run across a killing field of mantraps and war hounds. If you are unlucky enough to be the first to survive that, you have a good twenty or so warrior monks to deal with. If you survive all that, then is when you start to appreciate just how deadly these traps, ah, Gapforts, are. You see, to now open the gatehouse, you must either have a battering ram that can take all the punishment being dished out by the fort long enough to knock a hole in the gate, or you must capture the gate house. The latter being the most likely option. There is a tower either side of the gatehouse you can go up, each of which is filled with warrior monks. Should you get to the top of the tower, and manage to destroy the ballista and kill my archers, you will probably want to kill the crossbowmen, archer and ballistae occupying the rest of my fort. At which point, you should notice the warrior monks pouring forth from the rest of the towers. And of course, all this time, you've been under fire from the archers and ballistae up on the Cliffwall defences. Now, you may have asked yourself, 'But surely, that little fort would only need a few ladder men, and they could just climb up the wall, and then put ladder down the other side. But ancestors thought of that. We placed a moat on the inside of the fort, so you would have to fill it in before putting the ladder up, and while you were filling it in, you would probably get shot by the crossbowmen on the other wall, whom you turned your back on.

Assuming you did get up there, and somehow cleared you section of wall of my troops, you would then notice the moat on the outside of the fort as well. So, to put ladders up, you would have to get outside, fill in the outside moat, and then put your ladder down. And to get outside, you must go through the gatehouse. Foolproof, Genius proof, some of my relatives even have the temerity to claim it as God proof. Impenetrable, in other words. Lord, were we wrong.


	2. The New Plague

It started some time ago. We were tracking the progress of different plagues throughout the history of Europe. And we noticed a pattern. Trade routes. And if you follow them back, each plague came from Asia. Damn Oriental mystics, and their Godless curses. We were fortunate with the Black Death. It had come around a few weeks back, and we had shut our doors to all travellers. Kept it out. And soon after we open our doors again, we hear terrible rumours of a curse gone wrong in China. Unfortunately, this was, apparently, the work of a dark sage, and all the more terrible for it. He had attempted to curse a family to eternal unlife, and had created the nightmare creatures of every holy mans worst fears. Vampyres had flared briefly, before being put to rest. Warlocks had spawned, before Holy Monks of the Chin Order had destroyed them. But the two ones to resist human attempts at eradication were the most awful. The first, a terrible skeleton army, where men cut down by their swords would shed their skins, and become one of them. The other, a foul horde of the dead, who feast upon the flesh of the living, and even one bite can cause a healthy man to die in a single day, and join their swelling ranks. Fortunately, the entire Imperial Troopers of the Chinese Emperor managed to slay all the skeleton men. But...When faced with the undead horde, there were not enough of them to complete the task, and the Forbidden City fell into silence. It was about this time that the Chinese citizenry began to flee, and rumours started to spread.....

The rumour mills of Europe work swiftly, and before the first Chinamen stepped foot in Austria, their reputation had proceeded to give them a bad name as far away as England and as far south as Egypt. Fortunately, I set little stock by the rumours, and merely treated it as though there were a plague afoot. In all the less excitable nations, mine included, small communities of Chinese scholars and mystics sprang up out of nowhere.

It was fortunate that they did, because soon after, the undead horde swept out from the East and across Europe, the tide engulfing entire nations into chaos, fortress and citadel and castle and town, all fell beneath the unending dead. They streamed straight for populations, and soon every castle in Europe was either locked up tight, praying the dead would leave before the supplies ran out, or was laid wide open, with none left alive to lock up. And then, somehow, Fate allowed the situation to get even worse.

I received message by pigeon, the only fairly reliable method of mail transport, that Rome had fallen. The Church had sent out Crusades to rid the Earth of these cursed beasts. All of them had failed to return. The last one didn't even make it out of the city gates. The creatures had poured in, by the hundreds, and before the gate was closed, it was thought that nearly a thousand were in the city. They had forgotten the catacombs and sewers beneath the city. These must have held nearly tens of thousands, for, when they tried to drive one horde into the sewers, an even larger one came out. The Lord Gaunil begs forgiveness for leaving His Holiness behind, but he honestly thought the Holy See and the Swiss Guard would be able to cleave their way through the unholy like a hot knife the cheese. What he did instead was to lead a 'children's crusade' to the nearest castle. He now has over a hundred children, seventy women, thirty untrained men, and twelve knights to hold a castle against an unending horde of dead. I don't envy him. Seventy women, in one castle, with less than perfect conditions? Any sane man would jump off the tower before the women started to gang up on him!

I have also been receiving messages from other castles in Europe, and even a few from my contacts in England, asking after the condition of my castle. From what I have been told in messages, the general worry with the castles is food, and the generation of it. The situation in England is also starting to deteriorate. It would seem that any foreigner is now the target of a lynching, with extremely lethal results. Whilst this attitude may be rather extreme, it will certainly keep the populace safe from this blight. However, messages from my more eastern comrades contain even more worrisome news. Some of them have been noticing strange activity amongst the dead. Almost like they are moving with...purpose, like someone is directing them. The first few to report this have stopped sending messages, so I must fear the worst. I have advised all castle holders with the capability to consult with their Chinese scholars and mystics. Perhaps they may be able to shed some light on this dark mystery.

* * *

A/N : I do not believe or profess to believe that women are in any way inferior to men, generally annoying, or whatever insulting message you believe you got from this work. I have simply included an outdated opinion that was prevalent in the medieval era. If you wish to complain about this, feel free to send your hatemail to anyone descended from 11th to 16th century nobility.


	3. Beginning of the End

A few months had passed since Lord Gaunil had stopped sending pidgeons. We were, effectively, under siege from tide of undead. Most simply passed us by, and headed for more western populaces. Many, however, were attracted by the scent of life emanating from my Stronghold.  
I had consulted with my mystics, and they all claimed that the news from the east could only indicate that dark sages were wandering the forsaken earth, magically controlling any undead they met along the way. They claimed to have placed wards around my fortress to prevent this from happening, but even so, I was unsettled.

Some of my nobles began to listen to the ravings of the priests. Took it into their head to each lead their personal guards and families into battle against the undead, and hopefully winning. None of the clergy volunteered to aid them. It soon became obvious why. The less well armoured of their troops were eaten, or torn apart. Those encased in battle plate were soon crushed by the sheer numbers zombies in that horde. But, for those who created a defensive perimeter, we were forced to watch as, slowly, oh so slowly, they fought their way around to the other gate. Then there was a most terrible roar, and a new creature rose up from the masses of undead. This one was a roiling mass of pink flesh, and looked a veritable Hercules. Its muscles were so strong in fact, that the finest steel swords did little to harm it. Some of those men were pummelled to death, their armour crushing in on them. Others were flung for miles away from the Castellum, where I assume they met their end. Some lucky few were flung in over the GapFort walls. It was then that we realised we were truly in trouble. I immediately notified my contacts that there were new varieties of zombie. Some responded with horror. Some didn't respond at all. Others responded with terrifying tales of other mutations. Apart from the Brutes such as I had encountered, my Germanic friends reported to me of 'Jaegers', who would stalk their prey before leaping upon them with a screech like an eagle, and whose talons could kill through mail. There were Lictors, who would pull defenders off of walls with their long, projectile tongues. There were Bile-Demons, whose putrid juices could attract hordes from miles around. And then there were Banshees. These would quite happily sit in a dark corner and cry. If disturbed, however, they would let out a screech and go on a rampage, ripping apart any living thing until it found another quiet, dark spot to cry in. Their claws could rend apart plate armour. Several castles had one of these living in their dungeons, and used the threat of them to discourage crime.

Alas, those times ended. You may note that, at the bottom of the Cliffwalls, there is no moat. After all, why put a moat around an unscalable mountain? But Jaegers could climb. And their victims, if they are not ripped apart, will often turn. So I watched as, one night, part of my walls went dark.


	4. RIP This Fic

Quite frankly, I will be surprised if there is anyone left to actually read this. That, of course, is my own fault – I haven't exactly been the most prolific of authors. Still, I am not the sort of person to leave 'on hiatus' signs on a story – if it's dead, I'll mark it as such. And this is the official tombstone for the story. I'll admit, writing this was fun, and getting feedback from people saying how much they enjoyed it was awesome.

Life, however, dislikes me. Or at least, it enjoys messing with me. Most of my stories, I wrote in the later years of secondary school. College applied the pressure, and something had to give. That something was my fanfiction (swiftly followed by my games consoles and my tv). University also hasn't allowed me time to put my few remaining ideas to Word.

Ignoring that fact, we also have the problem that it has been a good number of years since I have had access to the source material for the majority of my fics. How am I supposed to take inspiration from something when I am seeing no new releases, and no new derived works? So, unfortunately, I have seen other things, and sometimes been inspired by them, and have slowly lost contact with this fandom.

Regrettably, it is unlikely I will gain access to the source material again in the future, and even if I did, I already look on my current works with horror (turns out, reviewing fics is almost as instructional as being reviewed), and I can see which sins against fiction I have committed myself.

Anyway, I was just posting this so that all you who are still watching this story may know that I am, regrettably, cancelling it.


End file.
